


From the Wreckage

by lizwuzthere



Series: Season 2 AU [8]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: F/F, M/M, Multi, Wreckers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-19
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-01-20 01:03:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1490983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizwuzthere/pseuds/lizwuzthere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><div class="center">
  <p> </p>
  <p>    <img/><br/></p>
</div>Mid-War Cybertron: After his transport ship crashes, Knockout finds himself in the company of three of those infamous warriors: the Wreckers. No lone Decepticon could hope to escape that situation alive, so Knockout will just have to be something else. Like an Autobot.
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is sort of a prequel to the next one I'm doing in my Opportunity Knocks series. It basically contains all of the background information about Wheeljack and Knockout that will be mentioned in that story.  
> It's this one: [Crushed upon the Wheel.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1553747/chapters/3292907)
> 
> OH and Trauma, the OC in this chapter, is the character of [Blueskyscribe](http://www.archiveofourown.com/users/blueskyscribe). You should read her story with him: [Life in Glass Houses.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/865388/chapters/1660204)

“These sort of injuries aren't complicated, you should have everything you need there. Just don't make the first repair until you have the welder within reach..”

“ _Sure, Doc um... Okay yeah, I got it._ ”

“Make sure it isn't the soldering iron. I don't want to have to scrape out bonding metal when I get back.”

“ _No no, it's not- oh wait a klik... Yeah. Yeah okay_ now _I got it!_ ”

“ _Wow, um... when is the REAL doctor going to be back? I think I'd rather wait for him, honestly._ ”

“ _Don't worry_. _Knockout showed me how t'do this tons of times._ ”

Knockout's smile widened as he heard the small voice of their patient picked up by Breakdown's comm. “Tell your patient there to metal up!” He said, intentionally louder than before so they would hear him. “He's a Decepticon, isn't he? And Decepticons aren't afraid of losing something trivial like a leg every now and again.”

“ _Wa-wait am I going to_ lose it _? It's not that bad really, I can wait!!_ ”

Breakdown's laughter accompanied the terrified patient's vocals until finally he spoke up again. His voice took on that deep and commanding tone it did when he was trying to act tough. Knockout thought that he sort of liked that tone. “ _Don't be stupid! You're a Vehicon; legs practically crystalize in the mines for you lot._ ”

“ _I THINK I'M RATHER ATTACHED TO_ THIS _ONE!!_ ”

“Knockout.”

At hearing his name called, the red medic turned around, still wearing that amused grin. Sitting on the opposite end of the tiny passenger bay, a lavender jet was tapping his digits expectantly on their makeshift table. He had a ' _stop teasing patients and come back here and play this slagging game that YOU wanted to play in the first place_ 'look about him, so Knockout offered him a short wave and went back to his conversation.

“You'll have to let me go, Breakdown. Trauma's about to pitch a fit because he's not getting enough attention.” Knockout couldn't be bothered to listen to whatever protests Trauma was offering in the background and instead focused on Breakdown..

“ _Alright alright. I'll see you soon though, yeah?_ ”

“We shouldn't be more than another sub-cycle.” Knockout glanced out one of the small, rectangular windows of the transport ship. Outside he could just make out the dark grey and orange streaked ground far below. “We _are_ flying over the Badlands though, so there's a chance we'll get lost and be another two or three.”

“ _Why would you get lost?_ ”

“Communication tends to short out in this area. It might not affect us up in the air, but still. Don't fry a circuit if you comm again and I don't pick up the first time.”

“ _I'll try to restrain myself._ ”

With a quiet hum of approval, Knockout finally disconnected and swiveled back around towards Trauma. “Now then, where were we?” he mused, sauntering over and sitting across from the other medic.

Trauma said nothing for a moment, but continued tapping his digits on the box they were using as a table, eyeing his comrade irritably.

The two of them had been called away to assist a Decepticon base not too far from their own which happened to be short on medics and close to a recent battle. Apparently, there were Autobots out there who, when facing off against a force three times the size of their own, decided they were _too good_ for running away. Knockout knew the type; even though he'd tried to pound it out of him, Breakdown was like that sometimes...

Well, unfortunately, it seemed these particular Autobots _were_ too good for running away, because in the end it was the Decepticons who had turned tailpipe and fled. There'd been quite a mess to clean up... Breakdown had wanted to come help, (and probably check out the destruction) but he wouldn't have fit in the transport with them. And it was stupid to try and drive across the Badlands. They _were_ called the Badlands, after all.

So since it was only the two medics on this tedious journey back, Trauma obviously wasn't thrilled at being left hanging. Finally he spoke up, “Before you so rudely shut me out to go talk to your _assistant_ , it was your turn.” Knockout noticed the emphasis on the word, but chose to ignore it.

“I hardly think interrupting a card game to give crucial medical advice ought to be considered rude.” Knockout picked up one of the tiles on the table, adding it to his stack.

“Oh sure, sounded _real_ crucial.” Trauma raised an optic ridge as he looked down at the tiles in his servo and began shuffling through them. He was holding the tiles in a stack so Knockout couldn't see how many he had left. “You don't actually think he was calling for help with a patch job? He just misses you.” His speech took on an air of mocking and he looked up again. “Isn't that cute, KO? Your big, blue brute wanted to hear the sound of your vocalizer.”

Knockout's optics narrowed. There were a few things he wanted to say to that, but seeing as how he had to spend the next sub-cycle shut in with this mech (unless he wanted to go sit with the genericons flying the ship, which would be slightly less enjoyable than driving his drill through his optical socket) he didn't make any of the comments that crossed his processor. Instead he just growled. “Take your turn already.”

Trauma didn't seem to have the same thought process and decided to keep at the subject. “Aww you're not mad, are you?” The jet shrugged his shoulder plating, though his wings gave a short flutter behind him, betraying his amusement. “Come on, now. After _that_ display you can't expect me not to tease you.”

“Display?” Knockout hadn't meant to engage Trauma on the subject, but he was visibly offended by this last comment. “I'd hardly call a private conversation a display. A _medical_ conversation, might I add?”

“Oh. So that big, goofy grin you had on the whole time was because you get _so_ excited about welding.” Trauma placed a tile down on the table, smirking up at Knockout. “Your move.”

Knockout's optics dropped down to his tiles. _Had_ he been smiling? He couldn't remember.

“Not like it's any of your business,” he began, keeping his optics down, "but there's nothing between me and Breakdown.” He picked up another tile.

“What? _Nothing_ , you say?” Trauma sneered, leaning back in his seat. “I don't believe that for a nano-klik! The way you two carry on- I'd have thought you'd be sending out invitations to your bonding ceremony already.” He leaned forward again, placing another tile. “Send me one, by the way. When you do _._ Which you _will_.”

“If you must know,” Knockout's digits gave an annoyed twinge as he continued. “Breakdown and I have an... arrangement of sorts.”

“That's what you call it? Not very romantic.”

“Yes. That _is_ what I call it.” Knockout placed a tile. “And it's _not_ romantic. It's not any deeper than your attachment to... Oh, I don't know... This table we're using.”

“Wow!” Trauma's optics widened slightly. “You'd compare Breakdown to a _box_ we're using for a table?”

“That's right.” Knockout reached forward, tapping the crate with his pointed digit. “You found the thing and thought it would be a good table, so you fixed it up to be one. It does its job, and once you don't need it anymore, you can just put it back and it'll be a box again. No need to get attached to the thing being a _table_.”

Trauma winced and looked down at his tiles again. “Huh... seems a bit harsh.” He moved to place a tile down. “But I guess if you're both satisfied with just that.” He paused, his servo still grasping the tile, and he looked up and met Knockout's gaze. “...Breakdown _does_ know you two aren't serious, right?”

Knockout just sort of mumbled in reply, giving a short glance out one of the windows again. “Well, yes... he must... I'm sure he does.”

“Oh _Primus_ , Knockout,” Trauma rubbed his servo against his helm. “If you really haven't had that conversation with him... You think he's just gonna know not to get attached? ...I mean, it's _Breakdown_. If anyone would-”

“What makes you think you know what Breakdown feels!?” Knockout snapped, slamming a tile down on the table. “I've known him for _vorns_ longer than you have!”

Trauma strummed his pointed digits on his helm, still resting in his servo. “Yes that's true... But, just because you know him better doesn't mean I don't know him at all. We've all been stationed together for a while now... long enough to consider him a friend, at least.”

“Oh please, don't be stupid,” Knockout groaned, clearly growing tired of this conversation. “We're _Decepticons_. And Decepticons don't have friends.”

“WHAT?!!” Trauma pitched forward, erupting into laughter. “HA HA HA!! Where did you hear that- some old Senate propaganda?!”

Knockout said nothing in reply, only watching Trauma as he tried and failed a number of times to come out of a terrible fit of giggles. Finally, he calmed down and, after clearing his vents quietly, spoke again.

“Uh yeah... I don't think not having friends is a Decepticon thing.” Trauma shrugged his shoulder plating and tilted his helm forward a bit. “I think it's more of a _cynical aft_ sort of thing.”

“Having friends is a liability, Trauma.” Knockout folded his arms across his chassis, glaring coldly at the other medic. “How many times have you seen someone get scrapped by going back _for a friend_? That sort of attachment- it's the kind of idiotic thing an Autobot would do.” He vented heavily and turned to look out the window again. “Attachment gets you killed. That's why I don't have friends.”

When he turned to look back at Trauma, he was a little surprised to see the lavender jet had an awfully smug smile on his face. “Mmhmm. So that's the reason, huh? ...If you say so,” he mumbled, letting his optics trail up and down the red mech.

Knockout narrowed his optics. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing.”

“No no no, don't think I don't know what that condescending look is about. You're trying to _analyze_ me, aren't you?” Knockout shouted, “Well cut it out! What, do you think you're some kind of psychologist now?”

“I would be a _psychiatrist_ , actually.” Trauma's grin became even more smug, if that was possible. “I have medical training, after all... but since you asked; what I think you're-”

“No.” Knockout interrupted immediately, holding up a digit to stop him. “No, I did _not_ ask.”

“What _I_ think,” Trauma continued, speaking louder over Knockout despite his protests, “is you just use this _'Cons have no friends_ thing as an excuse. You don't really feel that way.”

“I said NO. I'm not interested in your stupid theories!” Knockout interrupted again.

Trauma spoke even louder, practically shouting now. “You just don't want to admit you have those feelings for Breakdown because you're afraid! You're afraid of losing him so you _pretend_ like losing him would mean nothing at all to you!!”

“ _SHUT UP!!!_ ”

It was quiet for half a klik and then Knockout's comm line pinged. His digit flew to his audial to accept the call; turning his helm away from Trauma, he screamed, “WHAT?!!”

“ _Whoa. Hey, sorry Doc. Didn't mean to catch you at a bad time..._ ”

Breakdown.

Knockout glanced back at Trauma. The mech met his gaze only for a second, then he reached forward, placing down what was his last tile on the table. _Ugh_. That patronizing smirk was driving Knockout crazy. He thought for a moment to reach over and just slap it off his stupid grey face... but instead he stood and strode across the bay to get away from the other medic.

“It's fine. Trauma's just... It's fine,” he grumbled into his comm. “What is it, Breakdown?”

“ _No, it's uh... well, I think I just misplaced some gears in this guy here, and he's-_ ”

Now that he was listening more carefully, Knockout could hear the same patient from before absolutely shrieking in the background. “Why is he yelling? Did you not give him any circuit dampeners?”

“ _Heh. Nope._ ” Breakdown continued in a whisper, “ _That was on purpose, though. Shoulda heard the scrap he was talkin' about you fer not bein' here. Figured it might help him learn a bit about showin' respect._ ”

Knockout's smile returned. “Oh really? Well, when I get back I can certainly-”

Suddenly cutting himself off, Knockout lifted his servo up to his face. Oh, he... really _was_ smiling.

Oh no.

“Uh... Listen, Breakdown,” Knockout's tone changed suddenly, becoming much darker. “I think when I get back we should have a, uh... a _talk._ ”

“ _Oh. Uh... yeah, sure Doc. What did you wanna talk about?_ ”

Knockout hesitated, tapping his digits fervently on one of the seats nearby. “I just wanted to... clear up some things,” he said quietly, giving a brief glance back towards Trauma. “I thought we-”

He never got to finish. Just then, the ship jolted sharply to the side, sending Knockout crashing to the floor, his helm striking the metal with a powerful clang! Alarms began buzzing and flashing red in the bay. Knockout could hear Breakdown's voice calling him on his comm, but he was too dazed to respond. There was a sensation of falling, and falling _fast._ Breakdown's voice faded into static. There was a loud, terrible crunch. The scream of shredding metal...

And then nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was so excited when I heard about the new Wreckers comic that I wrote like five pages of this today. I am so pumped for Wreckers you guys :U  
> I'll try to get this updated quicker because I'm excited for that~
> 
>  
> 
> **CHAPTER WARNINGS: blood, gore, dismemberment, violence, minor/major character death**

“Scrap... I didn't think you'd actually get it down.”

Wheeljack climbed up to join the sniper on her perch. From up on the rocks there was a better view of the smoking Decepticon ship spiraling to the ground. “Alright, I guess you win, Percy. Nice shootin'.”

“My name is not 'Percy,' it is Perceptor.” she corrected. She then lowered the rifle away from her face to glare at him. “And if you cared to take notice of anyone but yourself on the battlefield, you might have known better than to wager on my marksmanship.”

"Cut me some slack! I was fighting off at least thirty 'Cons at any given moment back there."

"Hardly. I counted thirteen at your peak."

With an annoyed huff from his vents, Wheeljack took his optics off the ship for half a second to glare at the other 'Bot. "You're a pain in the aft, you know that?" He looked back just in time to catch a purple tailfin disappearing behind a ridge in the distance. "But slag if you ain't got some talent with a rifle."

"I would never depend on something so equivocal as talent." Perceptor turned away, sliding down the short incline back to the plateau where their meager equipment and supplies were waiting for them. After clipping her rifle to her back, she turned to face Wheeljack again. "Every shot I make is subjected to a precise calculation of angle, wind speed, friction from air resistance, geological rota-"

"Okay okay I know how that science junk works, you don't have to give me a physics lesson." Wheeljack, rather than follow her down, climbed up further to take her place at the top of the orange streaked, metal rock. "So you're doing a bunch of science in your head every time you take a shot, huh? You sure managed to get it off quick, considering."

"It is a rather complex equation." Perceptor gave a light tap to the glass piece over her left optic as she continued, "But I am helped along by my reticle here; it reads and condenses some of the less obvious variables which cuts the time between aiming and firing by three hundred percent... Three hundred and twenty two point six, actually."

"Hmm. Well, regardless of how, you still shot the thing down." He turned to look back out at the thin pillar of smoke now rising from the invisible wreck. "When we make it back to the Xantium, I'll owe you a drink."

"There's no need for that. It was hardly a fair bet." Perceptor shrugged slightly and nodded towards the smoke. "And in any case, ridding the world of just a few more Decepticons can be considered it's own reward."

"Heh heh, true. Very true." Allowing a mischievous smirk to cross his face, Wheeljack looked back to Perceptor. "Whattaya say we go finish the job then?"

Perceptor didn't respond for a moment, she only glared up at her teammate. Finally she spoke up, but only after turning away towards the opposite horizon, "The job is finished. Besides, our orders are to wait here." She sounded firm and even a little bit annoyed by the suggestion.

"Come on, Percy! It's not that fa-"

"Perceptor." She interrupted, only glancing over at him. "And I would NOT care to explain later why both of us were missing when he arrived back."

"Fine. You can just explain why I'm missing, then!"

Before Perceptor could raise any further objections, Wheeljack had transformed and disappeared down the opposite side of the incline. She didn't follow after him, but she did peer over the side of the hill and watch him go for a minute. When he disappeared over another slope, she let out an irritated vent and looked away. Some mechs just couldn't follow orders. At least she was on this team to balance him out a bit. Honestly, you couldn't just do whatever you wanted out here; there were hierarchies for a reason... even if it meant missing out on killing some Decepticons.

Perceptor glanced over at the smoke on the horizon one last time before she turned away again. If Wheeljack was going to get himself into trouble he would just have to deal with the consequences by himself. She wasn't about to let him drag her down too.

\--

Knockout was aware of two things: that he could hear his name being called faintly, and that there was a searing pain coming from his left arm.

It was probably Breakdown. That big oaf must've rolled over onto his arm again... and what was he saying? He couldn't quite make it out. That was a bit strange though; it didn't sound like he was right next to him like he should be. Lifting his right arm, he tried to push at the mass pinning his other one down.

Once his servo made contact with the mass, he knew it was not Breakdown. The metal was cold and heavy with a rough surface like it'd been through a grinder. Knockout tried to focus so he could figure out what this thing was, but his processor was still rebooting; he was just barely conscious. He did manage to listen more closely to the voice and was able to distinguish a few words.

"Knoc........! Please say som..... help! HELP M-"

As he was finally able to process the meaning of the garbled words, a sharp jolt of panic ran through his spark. Something had happened. Who was calling for help? Was that Breakdown?!

His whole body shot upright instinctively to see where this voice was coming from. This proved to be a mistake, of course, because the instant he shifted up, a flood of pain rocked through his sensors from his pinned arm.

The pain at least brought him fully to his senses, and the agonized scream and slur of expletives that escaped him was heard by the other voice.

"Knockout! You're alive! Can... c-can you get over here? Please hurry!"

This time he recognized the voice as Trauma. Yes, now he remembered. They were on a transport ship together. Breakdown wasn't even there. He already knew that. Why had he been so worried? Before Knockout could suppress his pained groaning enough to respond, there was a loud metallic thud followed by the sound of some rubble clanking around. A moment later, a voice spoke up, revealing the arrival of a third mech.

"Hey! You two alright back there?" It was a higher pitched voice this time, one Knockout didn’trecognize.

"No!" came Trauma's response.

“Hang on, let me just-“ There were more sounds of rubble shifting around, and then some footfalls across the metal. Knockout still couldn’t see where any of these noises were coming from; in fact he could barely even see the piece of metal that was pinning him down. The footfalls stopped at last, still out of sight, and it was quiet for just a moment. Finally Trauma spoke up again.

“Don’t just stand there staring! Get Knockout!!” He was shouting, and his vocalizer sounded strained. He must have been injured as well.

“Ah, okay! Wh-where is-?”

“I’m over here!” Knockout spoke up.

He could hear the other mech scramble to follow their order and not a minute later, a dark blue Eradicon came into view as he climbed over the twisted wreckage.Knockout noticed one of his wings was bent at a very awkward angle and he was a little scratched up, but other than that he appeared okay. This must have been one of the pilots.

The Eradicon hurried over to Knockout and knelt beside him. “Uh… So, Doctor Trauma’s in pretty bad shape…” he kept his vocalizer quiet, “He’s going to need your help, but…” his gaze turned to the medic’s pinned arm.

"Well hurry up and get this thing off me, then!" Knockout glared up at him, "I can't do much from under here."

"I'll try, but..." The Eradicon didn't finish the sentence, he just stepped over and put his servos on the metal shrapnel over Knockout's arm. Just as they started to lift, the metal around them started to creak and shift. Particularly a very sharp looking bit of paneling hanging just over the two 'Cons.

"STOP!" Knockout shouted, staring up at the debris above them. "Frag, this whole thing's too unstable."

The Eradicon stepped back, looking up as well. After a moment they let out a resigned vent and turned back to Knockout . "Well... If we can't get your arm out we could always... y'know... lose the arm?" 

Knockout felt a twinge of panic in his spark at the suggestion. He was a surgeon. Even though it could be replaced, losing one his arms would still be devastating. Especially if Trauma needed serious medical care, which was sounding very likely. However, as he looked up and down the scraps of what used to be the ship around them, he realized there probably wasn't any other choice if he wanted to get out of there alive. He hesitated to admit it, but even hesitating was a bad idea. They didn't know how long this particular pile of metal would hold up.

Finally, he growled up at the Eradicon, “My toolbox was somewhere in the back. Go find it.”

Seeing Knockout was going to go along with his plan, he nervously nodded and disappeared out of view to further search the cabin. This left Knockout alone for a few minutes so he could stare at the sharp daggers of rubble hanging overhead, dreading the moment the Eradicon would come back with the box. He suddenly found himself wishing Breakdown were here. He was big enough that all that scrap metal on the ceiling would be no problem... Of course Breakdown wasn'tthere so it was pointless to think about it. 

It felt like ages passed before he did finally come back. He stepped into Knockout's view holding a very dinged up looking purple box with the symbol for a spark pulse engraved in white. “Is this it?” he asked.

“...Yes.” Knockout made sure his voice sounded firm. He wasn't going to show how much this was unnerving him, especially not to some faceless drone. “There should be an electric saw in there. Get it out.”

He watched as the Eradicon shakily opened the container and started shifting through the supplies. They appeared almost as nervous as Knockout himself. That didn't really help to make him feel any better.

It also didn't help that he was holding up various tools and asking if this was the one he meant. Stupid drones. They didn't know anything. After sorting through what felt like every tool in the box (including wrenches, screwdrivers, gauze, some stasis cuffs) and explaining that no that is not what he was asking for you idiot, he finally held up Knockout's electric saw.

“Ah! This must be it!” the Eradicon exclaimed. Then looked to Knockout for confirmation.

At the sight of the tool, Knockout suddenly felt like his spark was being squeezed in its casing. Perhaps part of him thought the Eradicon wouldn't find it and they'd have to come up with some other plan that involved less dismembering... It was too late to turn back, though. He had to see this to the end; it really was the only way he'd survive. He knew this, but even so he didn't reply for a moment, and just stared up at it anxiously.

“Yes...” he replied at last. “Yes, that's it.”

“Okay.” the Eradicon proceeded to put down the toolbox and knelt down beside Knockout. “So um...” they held up the tool uncertainly towards his arm, “Where should I... y'know... do it?”

“As close as you can to the elbow joint.” Knockout replied. “There are fewer major energon lines in that area. Also have the gauze ready, I do not intend on bleeding out after you've sawed my fragging arm off!”

The Eradicon didn't really reply to this, just reached over and grabbed a handful of the metallic gauze from the open toolbox behind him. Knockout noticed he was shaking a bit as he did. Perfect. Nothing like having a jittery servoed surgeon to build confidence in your upcoming procedure. The thought of Breakdown popped into his head once again. He wasn't a great nurse but he would have felt much better had he been here to do this for him... but he  _wasn't_ ! And Knockout was starting to annoy himself with of all these 'what if Breakdown was here' scenarios.

As Knockout mentally scolded himself, the Eradicon finally picked a spot and powered on the saw. The whirring of the tool brought Knockout back to reality at last and he felt himself tense up involuntarily. A moment later, a searing pain shot through his system as the saw met his plating.

Without even meaning to, Knockout reached up with his free servo and seized the Eradicon's bent wing, yanking him away! As he stumbled back, he dropped the saw in favor of clutching his injured wing.

“OW! What the frag?!” he glared down at Knockout, “I'm trying to help you, what was that for?”

“Scrap, I didn't... i-it was a reflex. It won't happen again.”

“Are you sure?” The Eradicon didn't seem convinced. “Because if you're going to keep moving around or grabbing at me while I do this I might mess up and... well, if I do it won't be _my_ fault.”

Knockout considered this for a moment. It was a good point. There weren't many people who could just sit still while they had a limb sawed off and despite his high opinion of himself, he knew he definitely wasn't one of them. What other options were there? He could try to walk the Eradicon through disabling his pain receptors. But that was a delicate operation and he really did not trust this shaky drone to go poking around in his nervous system. There had to be a simpler solution. After thinking quietly for a second, his optics fell on his toolbox again. It was still open and he could see most of the tools inside. One of them gave him an idea.

“Get the stasis cuffs.” he said pointing at them.

The Eradicon quickly reached down and plucked them out of the box. “These?” he asked, “Why do you even have these?”

“For unruly patients who won't let me operate on them.” Knockout explained. “You know, like _me._ Just put one cuff on my wrist here and I won't be able to fight back. Then you can take it off when it's done.”

“Yeah okay... but that won't stop you from y'know... feelingeverything.”

Knockout didn't respond, he just glared up at the Eradicon. Of course he knew that, he wasn't stupid like this drone. The very idea of not being able to move while this imbecile was operating on him was truly  _horrifying_ ... but he didn't have a choice!

“Just do it.” he growled.

At hearing Knockout's tone, the Eradicon immediately moved to obey. Pinning his free servo down, he snapped the cuff onto the medic's wrist. It only took an instant for the device to take effect and suddenly all of Knockout's circuits froze up and he couldn't move. The only thing he was left control over were his optics. Once he was certain the cuffs were working, the Eradicon shifted to the other side of Knockout and picked up the saw again. After letting out a quiet vent, he leaned forward, holding the arm in place, and started cutting.

As the saw cut through his plating and the cables beneath, Knockout began to really regret this decision. He had been taken injuries before, sometimes very serious ones, but a blaster shot or a single stab wound was nothing compared to this. This was slow and deliberate. The vibration of the saw slicing through his flesh ran up and down his arm, shooting pain all the way to his core, to his very spark. And he couldn't do anything about it. He couldn't even scream. All he could do was shutter his optics and wait for it to be over. It couldn't have been more than a minute but felt like it was going on forever. That stupid drone was probably taking his damn time too!

Knockout's optics shot open and he glared over at the Eradicon, hoping that his optics were expressing what his face currently couldn't. He did seem to take notice, because the Eradicon glanced over and met his gaze for a second. He didn't stop, though. Rather he pressed harder, apparently trying to go faster, all the while mumbling apologies.

The apologies were not helping, and neither was going faster! Just as Knockout thought he couldn't take any more of this, his vision was overcome by static and he blacked out.

When he opened his optics again it felt like no time at all had passed, but it must have because he was no longer stuck under the rubble of the ship. He was in a whole different place, in fact. The pain in his arm was still there, but it was more of a dull ache compared to the agony it had been before.

“You're awake!”

Knockout looked over and saw the Eradicon stepping over what looked like dislodged passenger seats from the front of the cabin. He stepped up to the medic and knelt down next to him. “That's good. For a moment there I thought I'd killed you.”

“I told you he wasn't dead. He just went into stasis lock for a bit.” the voice of Trauma spoke up from beyond the Eradicon. Knockout couldn't see him from where he was laying though. “Figures. He's got no problem with watching his patients squirm but just a little bit of pain for himself and he's out like a blown fuse.”

With what could only be described as a growl, Knockout pulled himself upright to glare at Trauma, fully intending to put him in his place. The anger fell off his face when he saw the state the other medic was in though. Trauma was sitting pinned against the far wall by a metal crossbeam that had pierced his shoulder, gone through the wing behind it, and into the wall. Not only that, but another smaller beam was protruding right from the center of his chest dangerously close to where his spark chamber should be.

When Knockout just stared instead of sassing back like he would have, Trauma let out a very forced sounding laugh. “Yeah I know. Makes your arm look like a fraggin' scratch, doesn't it? But at least _I'm_ still conscious.”

Knockout shifted uncomfortably, and made to stand. The Eradicon quickly grabbed his arm to help him up, and stood close by ready to help as he made his way over to Trauma.

“How are you still alive?” Knockout approached the jet, bending over to examine the pole sticking out of his chest. “This looks like it's going right through your spark!”

“Yeah.. I was hoping you could tell me.” Trauma grumbled, reaching up and hovering his servo over his wound. “I can't exactly examine myself from this position, you know?”

“Right...” Knockout turned back to the Eradicon. “Get my toolbox.”

He was quick to do as he was told, and scrambled back over the pile of rubble towards the back where Knockout had been trapped. While he was doing that, Knockout took the opportunity to look down at his own arm, or rather, what was left of it. The cut was rather choppy and unskilled, but the Eradicon did manage to stem most of the bleeding that caused; there was gauze taped and stuffed into the wound to keep him from bleeding out. Drones may have been stupid, but at least they could follow directions, Knockout thought.

When he reached up to touch his severed arm, he noticed that the stasis cuff was still attached to his wrist. He was confused for a moment before he realized it was only half the cuff. The connecting metal between the two cuffs had been cut away.

Trauma noticed him looking at it. “Yeah, the pilot couldn't find the key to the cuffs.” he explained. “So he just cut it off...”

“Whatever...” Knockout grumbled, lowering his arm. “At least it's off.”

As he was saying this, th Eradicon came stumbling back over the scrap metal and hurried towards Knockout with the toolbox in their outstretched servos. “Here you go, Doctor!”

Knockout gestured for him to place it on the ground, which he did. Using his one arm, Knockout quickly opened the box and sifted through the tools. He pulled out a diagnostic scanner and turned back towards Trauma to run the scanner over his chassis, focusing mostly on the wound from the pole.

It took a moment for the scanner to process its findings, but then there was a quiet beep followed by the screen lighting up. Knockout read it silently and then looked up at Trauma.

“Aren't you fortunate?” he said, “Looks like that crossbeam stopped just shy of your spark chamber. I still wouldn't recommend removing it until we have some more equipment to patch you up.”

“Alright so... But how can we get that equipment?” Trauma sounded a bit worried.

“I could go find someone and bring it back.” The Eradicon spoke up. Both medics looked over at him.

“You don't look like you can fly with that wing.” Knockout said.

“But wait, wasn't there another pilot?” Trauma asked, “Maybe he could go.”

“Uh... no.” The Eradicon lowered his gaze. “No, he... didn't make it.”

The two medics didn't respond, they just exchanged glances. Trauma's expression was noticeably more sympathetic than Knockout's. After a quiet moment, the Eradicon spoke up again.

“But I could still go.” he said, “I can't fly, like you said, but I could walk. While we were up in the air I saw what looked like an Insecticon hive just a few kliks northwest of here.”

Knockout grimaced at the word. “Ugh... _Insecticons_? ” he grumbled. Those disgusting bugs were even worse than the genericons. “What makes you think they won't tear you to pieces the second you step into their territory?”

“The Insecticons are on our side now.” The Eradicon replied, “I mean... yeah, they're big stupid brutes, but they know one badge from another. I might be able to get them to help.”

“Are you willing to bet your life on that chance?” Knockout then gestured towards Trauma, “More importantly, are you willing to bet _his_ life?”

Trauma was staring down at the pole in his chest, not looking especially pleased. “I don't think we have much of a choice, Knockout.” he said this very quietly and without looking up.

Knockout's gaze lingered on Trauma for a moment before he turned back to the Eradicon. “Alright. Well, I'm in no shape to travel, so you're on your own on this little escapade.”

“That's fine.” The Eradicon straightened their posture, their good wing twitching slightly. “You should stay with Doctor Trauma anyway to keep an optic on him. I'll try to be back as soon as I can.” With that, he started towards the opening to the cockpit to climb out of the wreckage.

Just as he was climbing through the crooked doorway, Trauma called out, “Hey. What's your name, anyway?”

The Eradicon stopped and looked back. “Oh... Yeah I guess I never got to introduce myself, huh? Well, I'm Slingshot.” he replied.

“Okay. Thanks, Slingshot. Good luck!” Trauma smiled weakly after him. Slingshot's wing gave a pleased flutter, and with that they hurried into the cockpit and out of sight.

Once he was gone, Knockout sat beside Trauma, pulling his knees up, and let out a long ventilation. “Those Insecticons are going to rip him apart.” he grumbled, mostly to himself.

“You don't know that.” Trauma said this forcefully, even though he wasn't looking especially confident either.

“Well either that or he'll get himself killed on the way there.”

“Would you quit talking like that?!” Trauma was sounding increasingly annoyed.

“Sorry...” Knockout shrugged, “Didn't mean to take the hope out of your only chance.”

Trauma didn't respond for a moment, but then he said quietly. “It might not be my _only_ chance... someone might come looking for us.”

“Like who?”

“Well... weren't you on the comm with Breakdown when we crashed?”

Knockout rolled his optics. “Oh would you stop with that already?” he moaned, “I'm getting sick of you teasing me about-”

“I wasn't teasing you!” Trauma insisted, “He might actually-”

Suddenly, Trauma was interrupted by a muffled scream from outside. Both medics fell silent and stared at the cockpit opening. After a moment Trauma looked to Knockout again.

“Was that Slingshot?” he practically whispered.

“...Idiot probably just fell over some scrap.” Knockout spoke quietly as well. “I'll go take a look...” He pulled himself up, slowly, and made his way through the opening after the Eradicon.

Knockout pulled himself up and out of the transport cabin and climbed over the mangled remains of the cockpit. He noticed the other pilot lying dead across the console, but paid him no mind. Looking over the frame, he saw Slingshot outside through the cracked glass. He was on a slope about 40 yards from the ship, but more importantly, he wasn't alone. Standing over the Eradicon was a white and red mech with a long sword in each servo.

Not only that, a red Autobrand was visible right in the center of the mech's chassis. Knockout shrank back, trying to hide behind one of the pilot seats as he watched. He could hear the Autobot speaking as he pointed one of the blades at Slingshot's face, but he couldn't make out the words. He stepped forward, planting one of his pedes hard on Slingshot's bent wing. The Eradicon let out a pained screech as the weight was shifted onto his injury.

Not an instant later, the Autobot raised his two swords and brought them down straight through Slingshot's chassis, piercing through his spark chamber. As the Eradicon slumped back on the ground, the light fading from their visor, the Autobot stepped over him and started towards the crashed ship. Knockout turned away and ran back through the cockpit doors into the transport cabin.

He nearly fell as he scrambled through the broken doorway. Trauma saw the panic in his movements immediately and tensed up. “What?!” he demanded, “What is it?”

Knockout stared back at the doorway, “An Autobot!” he said, trying to keep his voice down. “One of the nasty ones too. He killed Slingshot.”

Trauma's optics widened fearfully, “Oh slag... if he comes in here-”

“He _is_ coming in here.” Knockout growled. “He was heading this way when I stopped watching.”

“We... we've gotta get out of here, then!” Trauma's vocalizer was steeped in panic. He tried to grab at the crossbeam pinning him down, but the motion just made him whine from the pain of trying to shift it.

“We can't outrun this guy!” Knockout glared over at the other medic, “Neither of us could get two kliks before keeling over, anyway. Probably even less than that for you.”

“C-can you fight him?” Trauma was sounding desperate now.

Knockout traced his digits over his stump of an arm. There was energon leaking out through the gauze now. “No...” he replied. “And I can't even get to my weapons anyway, not with this cuff on-”

He stopped suddenly and looked down at the cuff on his wrist. Knockout couldn't run and he couldn't fight, but he was a  _Decepticon._ And that half a stasis cuff was giving him an idea on how he could live up to that namesake. All he had to do was make a convincing show for the Autobot.

Taking ahold of the gauze stuffed into his arm, Knockout tore it out handful by handful and tossed it over the pile of rubble and out of sight. Trauma was watching him looking thoroughly confused.

“What the slag are you doing?”

Knockout turned to face him, and Trauma shrank back as he did. There must have been a look in Knockout's optics giving him away, because the medic immediately knew what was coming. As he started to approach, Trauma took ahold of the crossbeam again and, ignoring the pain, struggled violently to free himself.

“No! No, Knockout don't!” Trauma wasn't bothering to keep his voice low anymore. Just as he was about to reach him, Trauma managed to transform out his blaster and started raising it towards Knockout. He was able to grab ahold of the weapon and force it up and away, though. He kept a tight grip on the blaster as he glared down at Trauma.

Up in the cockpit, they could hear metal screeching as someone pulled back some paneling to get inside.

Trauma's optics were wide and terrified as he stared back up at Knockout. “I... I thought we were friends!” He whimpered.

Footsteps were approaching the entrance to the cabin.

Unfortunately for Trauma, Knockout was a Decepticon. And Decepticons didn't have friends. Knockout leaned forward, placing all his weight on the pole piercing Trauma's chassis. The mech let out a pained scream, his other servo trying to reach up and push him away but being held back by the crossbeam in his shoulder. He struggled and cried, kicking out at Knockout, trying and failing to save himself. Fresh energon bubbled up from his mouth as the wound deepened. Knockout didn't stop, though. He pressed harder, feeling the metal beneath him sink into Trauma through what he knew was the mech's spark chamber.

Finally, Trauma stopped struggling. His optics continued to stare up at Knockout, wide and filled with shock, betrayal, but most of all pain. The light faded from behind his optics slowly. His horrified expression remained set.

Stepping off of his dying colleague, Knockout stumbled backwards. His pede caught on an outcropping of scrap metal and he fell, rather ungracefully onto his back. After letting himself lie there for a moment, he pulled himself into a sitting position, being sure to make a show of making it seem difficult. And there, just has he had suspected, was the white Autobot standing in the doorway staring at him with swords in his servos.

His blue optics moved from Trauma, lying dead and pinned to the wall, and Knockout sitting on his aft on the floor of the wrecked ship. After glancing back and forth once or twice, he finally settled on Knockout and a smirk made its way onto his face.

“Well whattaya know...” he said, “I didn't expect to find another Autobot in this 'Con ship.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out this sweet fanart done by [Mysterykai](http://www.mysterykai.tumblr.com) of the end of this chapter:
> 
>  
> 
>   
> 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's back! And I'm gonna be way better about updating this (and all my other stories) But this one in particular because the Wreckers are my favorite, and this is the only story I have at the moment with them in it.  
> A little bit about them that I didn't mention before: Wheeljack is young here. A rookie in the Wreckers team, really. He hasn't quite made buddies with Bulkhead yet. Perceptor is, yes, a femme as you noticed last chapter, because I like to swap pronouns for some bots and she seemed like a good fit for that. And the third Wrecker to make an appearance I didn't make that many changes to because he's already great.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!
> 
> Thoughts and criticisms are encouraged and appreciated!

At this point in the war it was very nearly hardwired into his system to go into defensive mode at the sight of one of those bright red Autobrands, but Knockout fought off that powerful instinct to panic. If this plan of his was going to succeed he had to _appear_ calm while still keeping his defenses up. LuckilyT, this idiot had already done half of the work himself by just declaring Knockout was an Autobot. If he still could, he would have thanked Trauma for his help with that.

Now he just had to play the part. He only had one shot to make this first impression convincing and he was going to make it count. What would an Autobot do upon being rescued by one of their fellows? Probably make a speech about friendship and the power of teamwork. No wait, it was probably just Prime who did things like that... Considering the way this mech had stepped on Slingshot's wing before killing him, apparently just for the fun of it, a profound statement might seem a bit odd if not downright suspicious. It would be safer to play this subtly.

"You're... You're an Autobot." it wasn't hard sounding afraid, but Knockout was careful to mix in just a bit of hopefulness to his vocalizer too.

The Autobot stepped through the mangled door frame and over towards the pinned corpse of Trauma. "That's right." He said tapping his sword against the pole still sticking out of the mech's chassis. "You seem surprised..."

Knockout tried to pull himself upright by leaning on his arm, but his strength was gone. The arm buckled under his weight and he fell again. Normally he would be annoyed with himself for appearing so weak, but in this case it was probably a good thing. He wanted to convince this Autobot that he was harmless.

Keeping his optics turned down, Knockout spoke, "I just... I didn't think I'd ever see another Autobot again." He looked up again when he heard the mech approaching. "Did you bring down their ship?"

"Nah, not me." He said. As he did, he reached up, sheathing one of the swords on his back. "My partner shot it down… well, I shouldn't say partner. She'd hate that. More like colleague."

Scrap. So there was more than one of them out there. They were probably waiting for this one to get back too. That did away with Knockout's plan to have him take the stasis cuff off and then put his buzz saw through the 'Bot's neck when he wasn't looking.

"There any other 'Cons left on this ship?" The Autobot stepped closer, keeping one optic towards the wreckage that was keeping the back of the ship mostly concealed.

"No," Knockout replied, "Just the pilots and… him." He glanced briefly over at Trauma, whose face was still frozen in that horrified expression, and quickly looked away. It was more important to focus on the Autobot in front of him, and try to keep him from going in the back. If he did, he'd see the piles of discarded gauze and perhaps what remained of his severed arm. It would be hard to explain why that Eradicon had cut him free while still pretending to be an imprisoned Autobot.

Thankfully, he didn't move to check the rest of the ship, and instead reached out his newly freed servo to help Knockout to his feet. "The name's Wheeljack." He said, "What about you?"

Well, Knockout definitely didn't want to use his real name. There was no telling how far he would have to take this charade. He needed a good Autobot name to use. Did he know any Autobots? Only the more famous ones or the ones Breakdown used to talk about, and it would be suspicious if he were to use any of those. Oh, but he _had_ met a few of their medics early on. How about that one with the accent? She had a good name.

"Red Alert." He finally replied, taking ahold of the offered servo. "But uh… you can just call me Red." This was perfect. Being one of few Decepticons to sport the color so brightly, Knockout was used to responding to that name anyway. He'd have to keep his lies as close to true as possible if he was going to remember them all.

"Red, huh?" Wheeljack nodded as he pulled the mech to his feet. "Not bad. Suits you." He held on to Knockout's servo a moment longer to regard the half of a stasis cuff still hanging from his wrist. "So… this a prison transport? You must be important if you got a whole ship to yourself."

It was rather suspicious, wasn't it? Not much he could do about that, though. He'd have to just stick as close to the truth as possible, and hopefully this Autobot was as dumb the rest of his kind.

"I wouldn't say important," Knockout mumbled, pulling his wrist away to look over the cuff for himself, "more like useful. I'm a medic, you see."

"Oh, so they had you fixin' up their soldiers, huh? Sounds like the 'Cons are really desperate for doctors." Wheeljack asked, his brow raised slightly, "Well, I guess it's better than one of the 'Con prison camps."

"Yes, my thoughts exactly." Knockout nodded, "So, um, did you say you had a team nearby? Are they on their way here?"

"Probably just waiting for me to get back, actually." Wheeljack reached up, finally sheathing his second sword. That made Knockout feel slightly more relaxed, but that went away once the 'Bot reached over and took ahold of the stasis cuff around his wrist. Grabbing each end of the device, he twisted and snapped the cuff in two, letting it fall to the ground. This 'Bot was strong. Way stronger than his small frame made him look. Knockout was suddenly very relieved he didn't have to fight this guy. He was way out of his league.

It took every ounce of his self control to not flinch when he broke the cuff off him. Looking scared now wouldn't do him any good. Instead Knockout rolled his wrist in a stretch and mumbled a quiet thanks.

"Don't mention it." Wheeljack said, then turned his attention down to Knockout's still bleeding arm. "What're we gonna do about that, though? You're a medic, so are there supplies in this ship you can use?"

After nodding that there were, Knockout did a quick glance around the wreckage, pretending as if he didn't know there was a toolbox right by Trauma's feet. Wheeljack started looking as well, but when it seemed as if he was about to head towards the back, Knockout suddenly spoke up.

"Oh! Over here." He stepped over towards his dead colleague and knelt down to pick up some clamps out of the still open toolbox. "It looks like one of the other 'Cons was trying to help him."

"Heh, yeah. Load 'a good that did for him." Wheeljack laughed as he approached, reaching over and taking ahold of Trauma's chin and turned his face towards himself. "Look at how shocked his stupid 'Con face is!"

Again, Knockout had to pretend not to be horrified as the Autobot mocked Trauma for being dead. He kept his optics down on the work in front of him as he tried to stem the bleeding from his stump of an arm. When he'd finally gotten the drip of energon down to an acceptable level, he looked back up at Wheeljack and saw the mech was still poking at the corpse.

"Nice work finishing this guy off, by the way," he said, glancing down at Knockout, "he sure wasn't expecting you to've gotten free, huh?"

"No," Knockout looked up at the energon dripping down from the beam piercing the mech's spark chamber. "he certainly didn't know what I'm capable of." Keep the lies as close to true as possible.

After a moment Knockout spoke up again, "We should go," He said, "I'd rather not hang around here, and you said there were others waiting for you, didn't you?"

"Yeah they are." Wheeljack finally released the dead mech and stepped over to help Knockout to his feet again. "In fact, Percy was kinda upset that I left in the first place, so we should get back. I'm sure they won't mind hauling you along for the ride."

"Percy?" Knockout hesitated as Wheeljack pulled him up. That name sounded familiar.

"Oh, yeah. When you meet her, don't actually call her Percy to her face," Wheeljack said, "she'll just give you a lecture about how her name is really Perceptor. As if it's the worst think in the world to be called a nickname, am I right?"

"Perceptor." Knockout repeated the name again. Yes, he definitely knew it. He'd heard Breakdown mention it countless times as he complained about his former team mates. But he knew her back when he was an Autobot. Not just an Autobot either, but something much worse. So if _this_ new mech was with Perceptor too…

He tried to keep the fear out of his voice as he asked, "Are you a Wrecker?"

With a slight smirk, Wheeljack nodded. "So you know Percy's a Wrecker, huh?" He said, "She'd appreciate that. Most 'Bots still think of her as a skinny scientist." With that he turned to go back through the cockpit entrance he'd come in through. "But to answer your question, yeah. I'm a Wrecker too. So no worries, the 'Cons aren't gonna get their nasty claws on you again if you stick with me."

For a brief moment, Knockout couldn't move. He stood there paralyzed as he fought to keep his composure. His thoughts went back to the battle he'd just been sent to clean up after. Suddenly, the immense amount of bloodshed made sense: the Wreckers had been there. The Autobots would call them their strongest warriors, but he'd heard enough from Breakdown to know better. They may have been strong, but what made them so deadly was that they were the Autobots' cruelest and most brutal all lumped together. These mechs were every Decepticon's worst nightmare. Now Knockout was in the company of one, and there were soon to be more. If they found him out, then that was it. He was done. These weren't the kind of sentimental, morally righteous Autobots who might haul him back to base and take him prisoner. They'd just put a bullet through his head.

Thank Primus Wheeljack had turned away, because after that realization, Knockout couldn't stop trembling. The weight of his situation felt suddenly unbearable. He tried to force himself to step forward, but it was like all the energy had been drained from his legs and he collapsed onto his knees again. He was going to die. Killed by the Wreckers for pretending to be an Autobot. What a way to go. Breakdown would be outraged when he heard.

"Whoa, hey! You alright?"

Wheeljack had noticed. Knockout kept his optics trained on the ground as the mech turned and came back for him. No. He couldn't be falling apart like this, not now while he still had a chance. He could do this. He was a Decepticon. He just needed to pull himself together and start acting like it.

When he did finally look up at Wheeljack, any trace of the panic he'd felt a moment before had been forced back down and replaced by a sheepish smile.

"Y-yeah… sorry, I guess I lost more energon than I thought." He said.

"Hey no worries, Red," Wheeljack hoisted Knockout back onto his feet one more time, then took ahold of his one good arm and turned around, pulling him up onto his back. "I'll get ya there."

This was very unexpected. With Knockout slung over his back, Wheeljack climbed out of the back of the transport and then out of the side of the ship altogether. As he started up the slope they passed by the frame of Slingshot just left to bleed on the ground. Knockout didn't really care much for the Decepticon drones, so he didn't think much about it. They weren't as important as _real_ Decepticons like him or Trauma.

Though Trauma was dead now too, and it had technically been Knockout himself who had killed him. It wasn't his _fault_ though. It was this stupid Wrecker that had gotten Trauma and Slingshot killed. And he could get back at him for that right now if he wanted to. The idiot had made himself vulnerable by carrying Knockout on his back like this. All he would have to do is transform out his buzz saw and he'd be finished.

He considered the idea, probably for longer than he should, but ultimately decided it had no merit. If he killed Wheeljack the other Wreckers would come to find him. Knockout didn't even know how many of them there were, and he wouldn't be able to get away. He hadn't been lying about losing a lot of energon. Not only that, but he was also still dripping from his injury, so tracking him would be a simple matter if he tried to run. No, his revenge would have to wait for a more opportune moment, if there would ever be one.

* * *

Perceptor hadn't watched Wheeljack go, and she certainly wasn't going to watch for him to come back. She wasn't interested in disobeying a direct order to stay put, so anything Wheeljack got up to while he was being insubordinate would have nothing to do with her.

She was busy cleaning her rifle when she finally heard his footsteps trudging up the hill towards the plateau they'd been stationed on. She didn't look up then either, preferring to keep her optic trained on scraping dried energon out of the gun's seams.

"Hey, Perceptor!" Wheeljack called as he stepped onto level ground, "Look what I found."

"Is it self-restraint? Or perhaps a sense of culpability for your recklessness?"

"Come on Percy, you know I'll never find either of those things."

Perceptor finally looked up to glare at Wheeljack, "Do not call m- WHEELJACK!" As she laid eyes on him, Perceptor leapt to her feet, grabbing up her rifle and taking aim. "What in the Pit are you doing with that Decepticon on your back? Have you gone completely out of your mind?!"

Wheeljack quickly held up a servo, slightly blocking Knockout from the line of fire. "Whoa, easy there, Perceptor. He's not a 'Con."

Her rifle wasn't lowered, but she did shift it down and tilt her head just slightly as an expression of her disbelief.

"Don't be like that," Wheeljack said, "he's obviously not a 'Con. Just look at him."

"I could assert the same thing." Perceptor narrowed her one optic.

Wheeljack lifted Knockout's arm off his shoulder and helped the mech down onto the ground behind him, then turned to Perceptor again. "Well, he's a grounder, and he's red. How many 'Cons do you see with that hue, huh? They're all just purple and silver." He stepped aside, giving Perceptor a better view of Knockout. He was visibly uncomfortable with this, what with her rifle still being aimed at his head, but he didn't move to hide. That would be too suspicious.

"If you're going to go based on looks alone, why ignore the red optics?" Perceptor said, "Or the _claws_?"

"That's just stereotype."

"As was your assumption about his color."

"Plenty of Autobots have claws and red optics." Wheeljack stepped closer to Perceptor, placing his servo on her rifle to try and make her lower it, "Isn't there a certain someone you know who has both those things? Oh and not to mention the _fangs_. And yet I always hear you saying how Drift isn't a Decep-"

In an instant, Wheeljack was on his back. It happened so fast, he didn't even seem to know how he got there, but Perceptor had stopped aiming at Knockout at last. That was because the end of her rifle was now shoved into Wheeljack's face.

"I ought to shoot both of you," She growled, slamming her foot onto his chassis, "him for being a Decepticon and _you_ for being a pain in the aft!"

As Knockout looked on at the two Wreckers, he was trying to keep his expression calm but it was increasingly difficult. Perceptor taking her crosshairs off of him helped, but was she really about to shoot Wheeljack now? They were team mates, but from what he'd heard from Breakdown, he wouldn't put it past a Wrecker to extinguish one of their own. Although, Wheeljack didn't seem that frightened. In fact, he was laughing as if this was just a game they were playing.

When he'd stopped laughing at last, Wheeljack spoke up. "Should've known better than to get close to you," He said, "but really, I didn't just haul him back here because of how he _looks_. He was-"

Wheeljack cut himself off suddenly as another sound interrupted him. Perceptor also heard it and seemed to take that as her cue to move her foot off of her team mate and her rifle out of his face. She didn't take aim at Knockout again, but she did return to glaring at him.

At first he hadn't been able to make out what the distant sound was, but now that he was listening more intently, Knockout recognized the sound of a flying helicopter. It was getting closer too. Just as Knockout looked up to see it approach, the sound stopped and with a flash of green and yellow, a massive 'Bot dropped from the sky, literally shaking the ground as he slammed his feet down onto the orange metal below.

Knockout shifted a foot backwards to keep himself from falling over. Although he had never been shown pictures, he'd heard about this green helicopter Wrecker before. Though he had never realized just how huge he was. He was far bigger than Breakdown, and far more imposing that his partner had described too. Even though the mech wasn't exactly how Knockout imagined he would look, but he recognized him all the same: this was undoubtedly the leader of the Wreckers.

"Springer!" Perceptor said the 'Bots name without looking at him, instead keeping her optic on Knockout, "Wheeljack brought back a prisoner."

"What, are you tattling on me now?" Wheeljack shifted up into a sitting position, sneering up at the sniper. "And he's _not_ a prisoner, by the way! I don't take prisoners."

Springer's optics went from Knockout, then to Perceptor who was still glaring at the mech, then down to Wheeljack on the ground. With a heavy sigh, he lifted a servo to his helm and rubbed the side of his face, looking incredibly exasperated.

"Okay…" he mumbled, "What the frag is going on here?"

Both Perceptor and Wheeljack started trying to talk over each other, making whatever they were trying to say almost completely intelligible. Springer stopped touching his face and held up his servo to stop them.

"Alright, _enough!_ I swear, you two are like a pair of sparklings," He shouted, then pointed to Perceptor, "Perceptor, you first."

Perceptor still hadn't taken her optic off of Knockout, although Springer was standing behind her, so she was addressing him without looking at the mech. "We spotted an enemy transport vessel flying towards us from the south and so I shot out its engine to prevent it from flying over us, and though we were explicitly told to stay at these coordinates, Wheeljack took it upon himself to go to the crash site to exterminate any potential survivors. I remained behind and when he returned he had this _Decepticon_ slung over his back."

Springer looked down at Wheeljack, "And what's your story, soldier?"

"Okay look, he's not a Decepticon, he was in the ship as a prisoner," Wheeljack said, finally getting back on his feet, "and it's true I went to the ship to kill any leftover 'Cons, but I found this guy instead. In fact, when I saw him, _he_ had just gotten through killing the last 'Con in there. Honestly, you guys shoulda seen it! He's only got the one arm from the wreck, and when I found him he had half a stasis cuff on, but he still managed to jam a pole through some jet's spark. A sight like that made me proud to be an Autobot."

"A part of his ruse, no doubt," Perceptor's optic narrowed further, "I wouldn't it past a Decepticon to extinguish one of their own for such a purpose."

Springer didn't respond to either of the Wreckers' statements; instead he turned his gaze over to Knockout. "What's your name?"

"It's Red Alert. But you can call me Red." Knockout flashed his niciest smile, doing his best to seem friendly and non-threatening. Perceptor already had him pegged, so convincing this 'Bot was his last chance. Hopefully he was as dumb as Wheeljack.

"You have a badge anywhere, Red?" Springer asked.

"Oh… no, I don't. I'm a medic, so I opted not to get a badge. It makes it easier to move around a battlefield without being targeted." Internally, Knockout was thanking every god he knew the name of that that wasn't a lie.

"Fair enough…" Springer nodded, then he looked back to his two Wreckers, "Wheeljack, you can't go off by yourself. Keep in mind that your actions have consequences; you could have put all three of us in unnecessary danger by running off."

Wheeljack just shrugged off the scolding. Then Springer turned to the other one, "and Perceptor. You shouldn't have let Wheeljack go alone."

Up until that point the femme had been glaring daggers at Knockout, but at last, her optic came off him as her helm snapped around to look at Springer. Her expression was one of absolute shock, as if she couldn't believe she was being admonished as well.

"If you couldn't stop him from going," Springer continued, "then you should have gone along to watch his back. Following orders is important, but watching out for your team mates takes priority."

Perceptor looked much more affected by his words than Wheeljack; she clearly wasn't used to being scolded.

With his two subordinates put in their place, Springer stepped between them as he approached Knockout. That defensive instinct kicked in again at seeing such a massive Autobot get so close, but Knockout forced it back and kept still, meeting the mech's optics as he stopped just in front of him. Although, he had to look almost straight up to do so.

"And as for you," Springer said, "I don't know whether or not I believe this story of you being a prisoner, but since Jackie has vouched for you, I'm inclined to let you tag along." He turned and looked back at Wheeljack, "We can sort out who he is and where he's from when we get back to the Xantium. In the meantime, you can be responsible for him."

"And how exactly are we going to get back to the Xantium?" Perceptor spoke up, "Did you make contact?"

Springer shook his head, "Not with the other Wreckers, but I did pick up another ship's signal. They're going to meet us halfway and lift us out of here."

"That's a relief," Wheeljack said, putting his servos on his hips, "I was worried for a second there I'd have to carry Red all the way out of the Badlands… Oh, no offense, Red."

Knockout smiled again, lifting up what was left of his severed arm. "No worries. Luckily, I'm not quite as heavy as I used to be."

This got a chuckle out of Wheeljack, and even Springer smiled at the joke. Of course, Perceptor wasn't amused.

"Who are we meeting?" She asked, looking up at Springer.

"Actually, it's Kup's team." His tone implied he was apologizing for something. From the repulsed expression on Perceptor's face, it seemed like he didn't do a good job of it.

"Don't give me that look, Percy. They were the only ones still nearby." Springer said.

"Perceptor…" She corrected, though her voice was quieter than before.

There must have been some sort of joke at Perceptor's expense that Knockout wasn't getting, because Springer looked like he felt bad for it, and Wheeljack was trying very hard to hide the obnoxious smirk on his face. There was no need to focus on that though; Perceptor's feelings didn't seem especially important when he had bigger things on his mind. Despite Springer not making judgement on him, this had turned out marginally well. They weren't going to immediately kill him, which had been his worst fear. Taking him back to the other Autobots would be trouble, though. If they got there and tried to find some record of him, there would be none. He would have to figure out some way to escape before then.

"Well standing around isn't doing us any good." Springer said, "Let's move out, Wreckers. We're headed northwest."

Northwest… That Eradicon, Slingshot, was going to head that way for help, wasn't he?

As Wheeljack helped Knockout back up onto his back to carry him, the grateful smile on his face wasn't forced this time. He _did_ have a way to escape, because he'd remembered what Slingshot had seen in the distance when they were way up in the air, and if they were headed that direction, it meant these 'Bots  _hadn't_ seen it.

The Wreckers were tough, but he wondered how three of them would stand up to an entire hive of Insecticons.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is mostly dialogue, but it's important, thematic dialogue :U
> 
> Thoughts and criticisms are encouraged and appreciated!

Two Vehicons and an Eradicon were standing huddled next to their transport ship. It had landed just behind another crashed transport and they were all looking on at the mangled wreck, just waiting. Occasionally it would shudder or pieces would fall off or cave in as it was pulled it apart from the inside out. None of them were optimistic about finding survivors; even before they had arrived, the thing had been pretty badly mangled. The odds of someone escaping that crash unscathed were not very high.

As they watched, one of the Vehicons crossed her arms across her chassis in a huff, "What's gotten into him?" She said, "I mean, he breaks stuff a lot but the way he came in and started demolishing the place… he almost brought that thing down on us! Breakdown's usually a lot more considerate."

"Cut the mech some slack, Clutch," the Eradicon said, "his conjunx just died in that wreck. Of course he's upset."

A second Eradicon poked his head out of the cabin entrance and had apparently been eavesdropping on their conversation. "No, Scissorwing, they actually weren't conjunx endura," he said, "in fact Knockout wasn't really that serious about him. If he'd lived they might've broken up soon anyway!"

"How would you know that about Knockout?" Clutch tilted her helm to show her disbelief, "He never talked to us Vehicons."

"Ignore Divebomb," Scissorwing grumbled, "he thinks he knows everything, but he's just a busybody."

Divebomb gave an annoyed huff and disappeared back into the ship, but nobody was fooled because he was definitely still listening.

Scissorwing sighed and leaned back against the ship, letting her wings droop low. "It's too bad, though. Breakdown's gonna be so sad when he finds Knockout in there, conjunx or not. And now he'll be the only one left at our base with any medical training, so this is a lose-lose for everybody."

"What about Trauma?" Clutch asked.

"Nah he was on this ship too," Scissorwing replied, "I saw him in there before we had to get out. He was dead. Like, really dead."

Clutch let out a sad sigh, "That's too bad. I liked him."

There was a brief lull in the conversation, and before any of them could pick it up again or change the subject, there was one last loud crash within the ship and then the noise finally subsided. The three of them looked expectantly towards the hole in the cabin, then rushed forward to meet Breakdown as he emerged from the wreckage. Divebomb had poked his head out of their ship to watch as well.

Breakdown was looking down at his servos where he was holding tight to a silvery grey arm that had a red door frame and long sharp claws. It was severed just above the joint and energon splattered down the limb from the cut, but other than the fact that it was disembodied, it looked fine. The plating was only slightly dented and scuffed.

The Vehicons still took the sight to mean the worst, and so as they got closer they started murmuring apologies and condolences to Breakdown. He didn't look up or acknowledge their words, instead taking a tighter grip on the arm.

"He's not there." He said at last.

Clutch tilted her helm in confusion, glancing down at the arm as well. "Wait, what do you mean? How could he not be in there if you found his arm? Where's the rest of- ow!" She was cut off as Scissorwing's elbow jammed into her side.

"Knock it off!"

"You knock it off, and don't use that word, it's too close to Knockou- OW! PRIMUS!"

While the Vehicon and Eradicon argued, Breakdown was looking down at the arm in his servos and didn't seem to be paying the two any mind. Instead, he kept his optics down as he ran one digit over the sharp edges where the severed limb had been cut.

"I don't understand. Where could he be?" He mumbled this mostly to himself, "I… frag it all, I don't know what to do!"

The two other Decepticons had stopped arguing at hearing Breakdown's distressed tone, and focused back on him.

"Hey, uh… maybe he's still alive!" Scissorwing suggested, trying to make her voice sound hopeful, "I mean, if he's not here he might have gone off looking for help?"

Clutch leaned towards her and spoke in a hush, "Without his arm, though? How far would he make it like that?"

Her mumbling obviously hadn't stopped Breakdown from overhearing her, and he pulled the arm in close, holding it against his chassis. "Scrap…" he groaned, "I wish we had bonded already… at least then I'd know if he's dead or not."

Just as Breakdown said this, a quiet whistle came from around the ship and the second Vehicon, who none of them had noticed slip away, poked their head around the side. They didn't say anything, but gestured for the others to come closer.

"What is it, Gearlock?" Scissorwing took the lead as the three of them hurried to meet them. From behind they could hear Divebomb, unable to leave the ship, groan in annoyance that they were moving out of his line of sight.

Once they had circled around the front of the wreckage, they saw what Gearlock had called them to look at even before they pointed up to it. Farther ahead, just at the base of an incline, was a body. Even from far away it was clearly not the bright red paint of Knockout, but even so, Breakdown rushed over to see what it was. As they got closer he realized he did recognize the dark blue frame of an Eradicon.

"Slingshot." He stated, as they all stopped to circle around the corpse. "How did he get this far from the crash?"

"Maybe he was ejected from the cockpit," Clutch offered.

Scissorwing shook her helm in disagreement at the suggestion, "No way, nothing gets through that glass. Also, he always wore a safety harness. It's Hailstorm who never buckled up, and I saw them in the cabin smushed against the console."

"Don't say it like that! I liked Hailstorm."

"What I mean is, Slingshot must have come out here after the ship crashed." Scissorwing gave a short nod, pleased with her conclusion.

"So then how did he die?" Breakdown asked.

As he spoke, Gearlock crouched down closer to the body. After looking at it silently for a moment, they bent forward and pointed at a wound in the mech's chassis. The other two Vehicons leaned in to take a look as well. It was a thin stab wound that pierced the glass and metal paneling on Slingshot's chassis and went straight through his spark chamber. It might have been easy to miss if not for a few streams of energon that dripped down from the wound and pooled around his helm. Apart from a bent wing, that appeared to be the only injury on the mech.

Scissorwing reached forward and touched the energon running along the neck and they smeared under her digits. "It's still not dried. So this must've happened a while after the crash."

"Someone did this." Breakdown's digits tightened their grip on the arm.

"Hey doesn't Knockout have a drill? Maybe Slingshot pissed him off."

Before Breakdown could shout down the idea, Scissorwing spoke up, "Shut up, Clutch!" she shouted, "Knockout isn't stupid. Killing Slingshot would leave him to fend for himself out here," she pointed up at the limb In Breakdowns grasp, "with only one arm."

"So then who-?"

"Autobots." Breakdown interrupted, his voice no more than a growl. "They must have taken him."

The two kneeling mechs stood up and exchanged glances. "Yeah that tracks." Scissorwing said while Gearlock just nodded. "Autobots love taking prisoners. They get to feel all superior and moral when they put off killing us for a few cycles."

"But I wonder… why they would they take the Doc and not Slingshot though?" Clutch asked.

Gearlock responded just by tapping their own chassis, then gesturing over to Sissorwing's identical one next to them.

"We don't count," Scissorwing clarified, "not to them."

"Ah. Right." Clutch shrank down a bit, tapping lightly at her own chassis. "So if Knockouts been taken prisoner, we should try to follow, right? How do we do that?"

Gearlock poked at Scissorwing's shoulder to get her attention, then started making signs with their servos in rapid succession. Breakdown and Clutch couldn't keep up, but Scissorwing seemed to understand, so she nodded along until they finished. Then she looked over at the others to explain.

"Knockout's injured, so we should be able to track him if he's still bleeding. You grounders stay on that trail here on the ground, and Divebomb and I will follow overhead. Then we can signal you when we get a visual."

"Alright fine," Breakdown said, "lets just hurry up so we can find him, already! Who knows what those Autobots are gonna do to Knockout?"

* * *

 "This is torture," Knockout groaned as he pressed his chin into Wheeljack's shoulder. "I can't take much more of this… How much farther are we going to walk?"

Being dragged across the Badlands by Autobots while pretending to be one was bad enough, but the length of the trip and how dreadfully slowly they were moving was absolutely the worst part. Since he was unable to transform or get very far on his own, Knockout was still riding on Wheeljack's back while the mech walked across orange streaked terrain. Their pace was clearly not the thing he should be focusing on in this dire situation he found himself in, but he couldn't help himself. Nothing annoyed Knockout more than being slow. He wasn't sure how long they had been walking, it felt like it had been years, but that was just his impatience. In reality, it couldn't have been more than a few hours. That didn't stop him from complaining, though.

His whining didn't garner much sympathy from the Wrecker walking just in front of him. The sniper hadn't even put her rifle back onto the holster on her back, instead walking with it armed and ready. Presumably so she could spin around and take aim at any moment should the need arise. She didn't point her gun this time, but Perceptor looked at him over her shoulder with a sharp glare that screamed of deadly intent.

"If you had ever experienced real torture you would not be comparing it to this leisurely stroll," She said, "perhaps when we reach our destination I can give you a proper demonstration, Decepticon."

"Alright, none of that, please." Springer's voice came from behind Knockout where he was taking up the rear. "I know we're Wreckers, but that doesn't mean I can let you torture mechs. Or threaten to either."

That certainly didn't ring true with Wheeljack's behavior back at their crash site and how Knockout had seen him tormenting Slingshot before killing him. Decepticons might have not have behaved any better in that situation, but at least they didn't lie about there being rules against it so they could pretend to be more righteous.

Of course, Knockout wasn't about to bring something like that up. Autobots liked to feel superior, and since he was pretending to be one, challenging that would be too out of character. Instead, Knockout smiled silently back at Perceptor, trying to make it look genuine. She didn't acknowledge him or Springer's words, and just turned away to face forward again.

"Don't mind Percy," Wheeljack spoke up. Perceptor quietly corrected the use of the nickname, but Wheeljack ignored her and continued, "she doesn't mean that. She just likes to sound scary."

"That did sound kind of scary," Knockout said, keeping his chin pressed against Wheeljack's shoulder. It would help to play up the fact that he was so helpless at the moment, and Perceptor trying to intimidate him could earn some sympathy from the others. He continued, "but she's right, I wasn't tortured by the 'Cons at all. I think they know that doesn't work when you want the mech you've captured to actually cooperate." He finally lifted his helm up slightly and tilted it curiously, "Perceptor, aren't you a scientist? You ought to know that much."

That was a bit of a jab at her, and not really necessary, but it sure felt good picking on a Wrecker. The slight chuckle from Wheeljack also let Knockout know that making light jabs at Perceptor was ok by him. Good to know.

"Well Perceptor hasn't been a scientist for a long while now," Wheeljack spoke up once it was clear she wasn't going to, "so maybe she's lost her edge."

"That's enough," Perceptor didn't even look back this time, "I realize it's well known I used to be a scientist, and most still assume that I am, but I am a soldier now. I don't like bringing up the past."

"Oh actually," Wheeljack said, "when I mentioned your name to Red, he recognized you as one of the Wreckers, instead of a scientist. So that's something, right?"

Perceptor didn't offer a response to this either, probably hoping that Wheeljack would just stop talking if she ignored him. She wasn't so lucky. He did let the silence stretch for maybe a minute as they continued along, but Wheeljack did eventually speak up again.

"I wonder how many Decepticons even know you're a Wrecker," he mused, "I mean, you were pretty famous as a scientist even before the war, so it can't be that many."

"Well, it's at least one, isn't it?"

Wheeljack let out a huff of air from his vents in annoyance, "Frag, Percy. You're no fun."

She confirmed this by yet again correcting the use of the nickname.

"Whatever. If you're gonna be even more of a grump than usual, then I won't bother," Wheeljack mumbled, then he tilted his helm to the side just a bit to make Knockout visible in his peripherals. "Don't mind her. I don't think it's you; she doesn't trust anything that hasn't been fact checked and peer reviewed at least a dozen times."

Knockout gave a short nod and smiled again, though weaker this time. "No offense taken, of course," he said, "it's good to be cautious, especially in such a dangerous place. But I'm not worried; she'll see the truth soon enough."

Being slightly cryptic was really unnecessary, but if Knockout couldn't get away with being just a tiny bit sneaky he was going to lose his mind. It also brought him a brief moment of joy as he thought of the truth these Wreckers would discover. It'd be too late by the time they did, of course. The three of them would be getting swarmed and devoured by Insecticons. Knockout sort of hoped he'd get to see the look on Perceptor's face when she realized she'd been right all along.

He was careful not to let that smugness creep into his smile at all, which was definitely a good thing, because once he finished that last sentence, Perceptor stopped dead in her tracks and whirled around to glare at him. Her suddenly stopping startled Wheeljack and he almost walked right into her, which brought her face right up to Knockout's. His smile vanished once he saw the look she was currently giving him: her one optic wide and flaring bright while her mouth was a hard, thin line.

"Whoa!" Wheeljack took a step back, almost into Springer who had also been caught off guard by them stopping. Knockout was silently thankful that his face was no longer mere inches from Perceptor's piercing glare.

"Something wrong, Perceptor?" Springer spoke up from behind.

"Yeah, what's the big idea?" Wheeljack added.

Perceptor's optic narrowed suspiciously as she continued to glare at Knockout. "He is planning something."

Scrap! Knockout shank down against Wheeljack's shoulder again, trying his best to look meek instead of nervous. He should have stuck to being straight forward with his lies instead of trying to be clever. Too late to fix that now, though. He would just have to play dumb and hope the others thought she was being paranoid.

"What are you talking about?" He mumbled, still pressing his chin into Wheeljack's plating. "How could I possibly be planning something?"

Springer stepped up and reached down to get his servos between him and the angry Wrecker.

"Look Perceptor, even if he is a Decepticon, he can't cause any harm for the moment," he said, "if you're so certain he's up to something, you can look into it once Kup picks us up. But right now we have to keep moving."

Perceptor took a moment to look ahead, down their intended path. They could see quite a distance away, but the rough and sloping terrain made it impossible to see further than a few kliks in any direction. It was part of why Knockout was so confident they could get right up to the Insecticon hive without the Wreckers seeing it coming. Unfortunately, Perceptor seemed to have noticed this possibility as well.

"I suggest we change course." She shot a quick glance up to Springer as she spoke, then looked to Knockout, probably to gage his reaction. "He knows that once we reach our destination he'll be found out, and yet the Decepticon hasn't made any attempt to escape. There must have been a trap laid in this direction. Why else would he come along so easily and without protest?"

Knockout was careful not to change his expression as she spoke, but the jolt through his spark made it difficult. They couldn't change direction now. If they did, he really was done for. Why did he have to come across the only Wrecker who had more than two processing components to rub together? If he didn't hate her so much, Knockout might have been impressed by how easily she figured out his plan.

"I… I didn't know what direction we'd be going, you know." Knockout offered, trying very hard to keep his voice level. "And besides, if we don't go this way, won't we miss the coordinates for that pick up?"

Nothing he said was going to dissuade her, but luckily, his words seemed to make an impact on Springer. The mech gave a thoughtful hum as he looked down at Perceptor.

"He's right. If we changed course now, we would miss the coordinates Kup gave us," He said, one brow lifted suspiciously, "but you must have realized that."

This prompted a fit of snickering from Wheeljack that he did a poor job of concealing. It seemed that Knockout was missing the joke again. Perceptor didn't seem fazed, but she did stop glaring at Knockout to glare at Springer.

"Yes I did." her vocalizer was flat. A little too flat compared to her tone just a moment ago. "I'm concerned about getting safely out of these wastelands, nothing more."

"You sure about that?" Wheeljack tilted his helm just slightly, making his statement seem all the more condescending. "I think there might be something more, if you catch my drift."

The emphasis on the last word didn't escape Knockout's notice. He also recalled Wheeljack saying someone had that name earlier as well. When he'd used it then, she had pinned him and shoved her rifle in his face. While it didn't elicit the same reaction this time, Perceptor's servos did tighten around her rifle.

"I did not share that with you so you could throw it back in my face." She appeared to be addressing Wheeljack, but she refused to look back at him, keeping her focus on Springer. "I am trying to prevent us from walking into a potentially dangerous situation. We may be Wreckers, but that doesn't mean we need to act recklessly."

"I agree," Springer said with a short nod, "but I don't think we need to be that cautious, Perceptor. I'm the one who decided on this direction, not Red. So we'll keep going."

With an annoyed huff, Perceptor turned and started walking again without another word. Although she did mumble something under her breath that sounded like, "No one ever listens…"

Wheeljack quickly took up pace behind her and the three Wreckers continued on their journey. It was silent again for a minute, but it didn't take long for Wheeljack to speak up again.

Tilting his helm to the side to look at Knockout, he said, "So hey, like I said, don't mind her. Turns out I was right; it's notabout you."

Knockout was still a bit shaken from how close Perceptor had gotten to ruining his chance to escape just now, and was focusing on making sure that didn't show. Though, despite being a bit distracted by that, he did find himself feeling a bit curious. If he could dig a little deeper, he might learn some helpful information. At the very least, it would get Perceptor to focus on something besides how much she wanted to put a bullet in his head. So he decided to ask.

"Who's Drift?"

"No one!" Perceptor almost shouted this over her shoulder, but her one optic was focused more on Wheeljack than Knockout, as if in warning. Already, this distraction seemed to be working.

"Don't be embarrassed, Percy," Wheeljack said, "it's not a bad thing to have someone who's important to you."

"Drift is not important to me." It sounded like Perceptor was restraining herself from shouting some more. "And I am not embarrassed, I simply do not want you discussing personal information in front of a Decepticon."

This was going to take a bit of goading. "Well, that's no fair," Knockout said, "I'm obviously the only one here who doesn't know… and think of it this way: if I really were a Decepticon like you say, then you've captured me, and I can't go telling all the rest of them about your secret Drift weakness. So no risk." Knockout nudged Wheeljack's shoulder with his severed arm just slightly. "Come on, the silence is driving me mad, and I love a bit of gossip."

After a quick glance ahead at Perceptor, Wheeljack looked back to Knockout and spoke, "Drift was Perceptor's conjunx before she joined the Wreckers. They were on Kup's team together, and he still is." He said it quickly so the sniper didn't have a chance to interrupt.

"Oh, your conjunx endura?" Knockout made his vocalizer almost obnoxiously sweet, trying to sound interested. "But that sounds nice. Why wouldn't you want to see him?"

"Drift is not my conjunx. There was nothing between us." Perceptor responded curtly, clearly wanting to end the conversation.

She wasn't successful, of course, because Wheeljack continued anyway. "That's not what you told me!" He said, "You definitely said that you two were together."

"Together does not mean bonded." Perceptor insisted, "Drift and I were not serious. We just… had an arrangement."

Up until that point Knockout had been rather enjoying himself pestering the sniper, but his smile faltered at her last word. This sounded very familiar suddenly.

"An arrangement?" He repeated.

"Wow, sounds super romantic." Wheeljack added, his sneer was audible in his tone.

"There was nothing romantic about it." Perceptor suddenly seemed more interested in correcting the record than keeping the whole thing a secret, because she continued. "We were partnered up on the field, and spending our down time together helped our team work. I ended it when I realized he had gotten too attached."

"How do ya mean?" Wheeljack asked, "How attached is too attached?"

There was a noticeable hesitation by Perceptor before she finally admitted, "He told me he loved me."

"Whoa, wait, you didn't say that before!" Suddenly, Wheeljack sped up, taking up pace next to Perceptor. "So the mech says he loves you and you just dump him right there? That's fraggin' cold, Percy!"

"It's Perceptor. And I have no interest in coddling any of my partners." She didn't turn to look at Wheeljack, keeping her optic focused straight ahead. "I wasn't going to go out of my way to spare his feelings when he violated what was an understood agreement. I had to look out for myself first."

Wheeljack leaned toward her just slightly, enough to reach out his elbow and nudge her arm a bit. "So you loved him back, didn't ya?"

"No!"

"Liar. You love that fragger, but you just can't admit it! That's why you don't wanna see him."

"I do not appreciate being told how I feel." Perceptor had sounded somewhat annoyed during this whole exchange, but after this last assertion, her vocalizer was low and tinged with anger. She shot a fierce glare over at the other 'Bot and continued, "We don't have the luxury of forming relationships like that anymore. We're soldiers in a war. Having attachments is a liability."

"No way, you're crazy!" Wheeljack turned his helm to look over at Knockout. "Red, back me up on this. That's crazy, right?"

Knockout didn't respond for a moment. He didn't want to side with Perceptor because she was so insufferable, but how could he not agree? It was astonishing how similar her words were to what he had told Trauma. So she was right. Although, being honest wasn't really a priority at the moment. Keeping his cover was more important, and the Autobot thing to do here would be to take Wheeljack's position and be on the side of friendship and love and all that nonsense… but even so. Perceptor was right. Wasn't she?

He really hated that he had started this conversation.

"There… there might be some logic in what she's saying." Knockout mumbled, annoyed with himself for agreeing with the sniper.

Wheeljack was annoyed too, and he let out an indignant huff of air through his vents. "You're both idiots!" He said, "Having friends and being in love isn't a liability, it's what makes all the fighting worthwhile!"

"A charming sentiment." Perceptor still sounded mad, but less so than before. "That's all it is, though. In practice, that sentimental nonsense is more likely to get you killed if you find yourself distracted on the battlefield. Or worse, you might even get some self-sacrificing nonsense into your head and die trying to save them."

"Quit tryin' to sound all cold and detached. I've seen you risk your neck out there for me before, and you barely even tolerate me."

"Danger and imminent death are different things." The sniper sneered over at Wheeljack, "You're my team mate, so of course I would put myself in harms way in order to keep you alive. That doesn't mean I'd die for you."

Wheeljack's grin returned at last, "Ha ha, wow. That might be the nicest thing you've ever said to me," he said, "I think you're not telling the whole truth, though, Percy. If you were so concerned with staying alive, why join the Wreckers? We're kind of famous for the turn-over rate."

A few seconds passed as Perceptor failed to answer. She didn't even correct his use of the nickname.

"I'm just sayin'" Wheeljack continued, "you coulda gone back to being a scientist if you were so worried about getting killed. So it's something else, right?"

"It's not," She insisted, "I've been a Wrecker for far longer than you have, so I'm not worried about-"

"Yeah yeah, I think I figured out what you're worried about," Wheeljack interrupted her, "you just don't want someone else gettin' themselves killed to save you. You pretend to hate everybody so they won't."

Perceptor was glaring at him again. She looked like she might reach over and smack him. Wheeljack noticed, but didn't seem to care.

From behind, Springer spoke up at last, "Quiet, both of you."

"No worries, boss. We're just having a friendly conversation," Wheeljack said, "me and my good friend Perceptor here, who I'd definitely die for!"

"Stop it. You are not funny." Perceptor growled.

"Is that why you really quit Kup's team? Did Drift almost die or somethi-"

Wheeljack didn't finish his sentence, because Perceptor had finally reached the limit of her patience. Drawing up her rifle, she clocked him right in the face with the back end of it, sending the mech staggering backwards. Knockout's helm was just next to Wheeljack's and so, as his helm snapped to the side from the blow, his audial smacked into Knockout's face. It didn't really hurt that much, but the shock of it made him lose his grip on the mech's other shoulder and he fell backwards off of his back. Wheeljack had been stumbling backwards and tripped over the downed Knockout, falling practically right on top of him.

There was a sharp pain from his severed arm from the sudden pressure, but it didn't last too long. Thankfully, almost as fast as he landed on him, Wheeljack jumped back up and lunged back at Perceptor. Knockout didn't pay attention to the two grappling, and focused instead on the sting still lingering in his arm. He sat up, clutching at his upper arm just above the wound, internally running through a stream of curses directed at these violent, idiotic Wreckers.

Before he could muster the strength to pull himself upright, he felt a massive servo slip under his good arm and lift him up and place him on his feet. Knockout looked up just as Springer let go of him.

"You alright?" The green mech asked.

"Uh… yeah." Knockout grumbled, "Thanks."

Springer left it at that and turned back to his two fighting subordinates. Perceptor had somehow pinned Wheeljack and gotten him into a headlock. The mech was struggling against her, but not very successfully. Despite the position he found himself in, he had a smirk on his face like it was all just in good fun. This appeared to be a regular thing for the two of them.

"Alright, ENOUGH!" Springer's booming voice immediately got the two Wreckers to give him their attention. "I said to be quiet… do you hear that?"

Perceptor released Wheeljack and the two of them sat still for a moment, just listening. With the both of them finally being silent, there was sound just barely audible in the distance. It was some sort of quiet hum, like an engine. Springer looked back around the way they came.

"We're being followed."


End file.
